


Mother, May I (Be Left Alone)?

by JewelQueen



Series: Fics From Turbohell for Being Homophobic (aka XPosts from my FFN) [11]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amanda Grayson Lives, Bad Russian Accent, Barebacking, Bisexual Disaster James T. Kirk, Captain kink, Christopher Pike Lives, Dutiful Son Spock, Flirting on Bridge, Gen, Healthy Amount of Crack, Inappropriate Flirting, Intoxicated James T. Kirk, James T. Kirk Has ADHD, James T. Kirk Has Issues, M/M, Manic James T. Kirk, Original Alien Species - Freeform, Overprotective Amanda Grayson, Professor Kink, Sarek Dies, Smut, repressed spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewelQueen/pseuds/JewelQueen
Summary: In which Spock doesn't realize how illogical mothers can be, ignores Bones' advice, and wonders about that shine he keeps seeing in his Captain's eyes.  A two-part love story between two idiots, a long suffering crew, and a meddling mom who just wants to see her son happy and treated right.
Relationships: Amanda Grayson & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Fics From Turbohell for Being Homophobic (aka XPosts from my FFN) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023406
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. I Assure You, Mother, I Am Fine (Spock)

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a major XPosting (see series name); originally written ~2011, completed (maybe?), some edits
> 
> Originally meant to be a three-part story with POVs of Spock, Kirk, and Amanda for each separate chapter in time to celebrate Mother's Day. I lost whatever I had meant to be the third chapter, so it's likely just to stay a sweet falling-in-love story via a mother's meddling in two parts (in space).

**Mothers hold their children's hands for a short while, but their hearts forever.**  
**_-Unknown_ **

**God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers.**  
**_-Jewish Proverb_ **

* * *

When Amanda Grayson, his human mother, accepted his invitation to spend some time together on Earth and take an official tour of the USS Enterprise while he was on shore leave, he _almost_ thought he felt a pang in his chest similar to what would be the feeling of panic in humans.

In all of his calculations, he hadn't anticipated her decision to actually accept his (more of a courtesy he had to admit) invitation. She hadn't ever before even expressed an interest in all of his previous other sympathy-invitations. Which made it completely unprecedented and almost wholly illogical; since she knew he considered shore leave inefficient at best, and a flagrant waste of Starfleet's time and resources at his most unforgiving. Perhaps he simply forgot to consider the depth of the loss of his father, Sarek, and how it would therefore affect her more emotionally-susceptible human nature. She had, after all, been a rather upstanding example of her species prior to all this--save for a few forgivable moments.

Nevertheless, he couldn't refuse her now. For one, he simply did not have an acceptable amount of time to compose a reply in which she could rescind her acceptance, seeing as she was already leaving New Vulcan. Secondly, she was his mother. It would be beyond rude to do anything but welcome her in her continued state of mourning. Especially considering he sent the invitation in the first place regardless of his motives. There were only two responses she could have given: yes or no. Basic probability dictated that there was a fifty-fifty chance of either result. And she had clearly, but illogically, responded in the affirmative.

Approximately 132.7 hours later, he was beginning to re-think his previously accepted conclusion. To take a phrase from Doctor McCoy--she was starting to drive him "out of his Vulcan mind" with her incessant _mothering_ (for lack of a better term).

The first three days had seen her as pleasant company on Earth. They stayed primarily within San Francisco for its agreeable temperature and significant number of available vegetarian dishes in nearly every restaurant. She asked relatively unobtrusive questions about his life, personal relationships aboard the Enterprise--with a keen interest in the Captain especially, for some reason--and he replied in kind with inquires about her well-being and work with New Vulcan. Out of consideration, they both did not mention Sarek by name.

He had saved the tour last as it would be much simpler to arrange her passage back to New Vulcan out of the docking area there, than to shuttle back and forth and once more to their final destination. But once he introduced her to the _Enterprise_ , something changed. He noticed the first signs when he showed her around the Observation Deck. She was becoming mute, pensive, and less animated. Her speech patterns became shorter and more infrequent. When she did speak and smile at him, the wrinkles by the folds of her eyelids did not crinkle like they usually did. Nor did her eyes shine with the ever-present gleam he usually saw there. In fact, if he had to make an informed guess, it would seem as if she was preoccupied with something unrelated to the tour on her mind.

Spock assumed she was tired and promptly cut out 32.6 minutes out of his intended full-tour program to retire sooner to his quarters. His mother had been silent for 42.1 minutes before and remained a further five as he collected her luggage for her.

"Spock?" He immediately straightened as he stood and patiently waited for her to finish her thought. "I don't want to leave you here alone."

He almost sighed with relief. He was dealing with a mother's reluctance and wariness instead of a more serious affliction. It had not escaped his notice that, for a human, his mother was not as young as she used to be. "Do not fret, Mother," he said as warmly as he would allow to calm her nerves. "There are over 400 crew-members whom will be aboard this vessel with me by 0600 tomorrow. If you are referring to and concerned by the seemingly lack of close friendship, I assure you, the Captain and the good Doctor keep me quite engaged."

"Oh, Spock," she said, shaking her head and smiling sadly. The crinkle and shine appeared to have returned slightly. "You are more in need of a mother's love and care than I thought."

He was stunned momentarily by her non sequitur use. "Mother, I do not understand your meaning."

"You need me here to look after you again. Sarek's death has hurt you, Spock." She reached for his face and Spock remembered the last time she had done so as he awaited the Science Academy's acceptance or refusal. He shied from her hands almost as much as he did from her words and squeezed her wrists once again.

"I am fine," he insisted, dropping them.

"If you will not accept me as your mother, perhaps you will accept me as your guest," she countered after a pause.

"You will be abusing your Ambassadorial rights if you do so," he reprimanded gently.

"Then do not let me," she whispered softly and he bowed his head. Since she was still grieving, albeit in an unorthodox and misplaced manner, he could only allow her to stay.

This proved difficult. If he were human, he would describe the day as mortifying. She awoke five minutes later than he did at 0400, in order to fully prepared for his shift before the Captain could see him as anything less than impeccable, and somehow stayed a small step ahead of him.

He sat up out of his trance, proceeding to stretch the stillness away in his limbs, and neatly removed himself from his bed. He blinked a few times, testing the alertness of mental processes with a quick question about relative physics at warp speeds. Just as he was about to lean over and straighten his bed, his mother called out to him. "Don't forget to make your bed, Spock."

He continued as he was intending, ignoring her hovering, and then strode the bathroom for a quick shower. As soon as he stepped out of the sonic washing, he heard Amanda tell him to "comb your hair, Spock." He hadn't even stepped outside the door before his mother began to instruct him again. "Get dressed, Spock," and so on.

To make matters worse, she followed him into the mess hall. Thankfully, it was only 0425 and no one was around as of yet.

She quirked an eyebrow at his replicated meal choice. "You should eat something other than plomeek soup, _sa-fu_ ," she said softly, choosing the exact same thing.

"I find plomeek soup to be the most correctly replicated meal of all the programmed Vulcan dishes. Nevertheless, I will endeavor to adapt to more variety if that pleases you, _ko-mekh_." He said in an attempt to mollify her sudden need to correct him.

She smiled and said brightly, "Thank you." He only nodded and wondered if this meant a return to normal.

If he weren't a Vulcan, he would have been startled by the cry of "Spock!"--for once, not coming from his mother. As it was, he found himself greeting the unexpected Captain Kirk at their table.

"Captain," he said with a dip of the head. "I did not think you would be present this early."

"Yeah, well, what kind of Captain isn't there beside his First Officer to greet his crew back on? _Shameful_ , really." His eyes seemed to dance with something mysterious hidden behind them as he grinned.

"Indeed. It could reflect badly if you were not there," Spock agreed. He paused only a moment when it seemed his Captain had not noticed the presence of his mother. "Would you care to join my mother and I for a meal, Captain?"

"I think I would." He departed for only a minute and forty-five seconds, returning with a rather small breakfast. "Why, Ambassador Grayson, I don't recall any Starfleet memo saying that you would be joining us." He glanced at Spock quickly, before settling into his seat across from them. "How long are you planning on staying, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Please, it's Amanda. And only as long as I'm needed." She gave a covert glance at her son as well, shaking Jim's offered hand. "I hope that doesn't cause any trouble for you."

"Not at all, not all all," he said smoothly. One would think he almost had this planned with his apparent ease and readiness. But Jim always was known for his charm. "I'm sure the _Enterprise_ is more than happy to welcome you aboard. She's got plenty of room--"

"Yes, I saw. Spock offered me a tour."

"Did he?" He slid his gaze back to Spock's. "And is this part of the tour, Mr. Spock?"

"I'm afraid not, Jim," he intoned softly. He caught curiosity in blue eyes.

"Hmm," he muttered, before turning back to Amanda and eating his selected apple. They continued enough small talk without him that he could tune them out and eat his meal in quiet. He was beginning to relish Jim's timing and graciousness as he would have not been able to keep his mother's attention on something other than himself this long; it was a pleasant reprieve.

However, it appeared neither could Jim completely. "Oh, Spock," she said and he froze, trying to spot anything that he was doing "wrong" or should be doing. He could find no such thing."You have a little...don't worry, I'll get it." She licked her napkin and reached across to dab at a surely invisible speck on his chin. He think he may have started to blush once Jim laughed at his dismay.

"Oh, no, Amanda," Jim said with fake horror and Spock immediately glared at him. "I think he's got some on his cheek too, over there," he elaborated with a point.

"Here?" she asked, the offending napkin brushing lightly over his right cheek.

"No, more to the left, right about--yes, there!"

"I think that's enough, Mother," he said quietly, shutting his eyes to the sound of Jim's chuckles.

* * *

It was 0615, the official start of his shift, and both Doctor McCoy and his mother were aboard the Bridge for no given reason. But Spock knew. Jim must have told the Doctor about his mother and the Doctor came to observe the interaction. There could be no other explanation for his thinly hid glee. And his mother would no doubt, quite unfortunately, fill his quota.

"Sit straighter, Spock," she said first as he looked over his console. He sat perfectly still.

"Spock, what are the readings on Spirat II?" Kirk asked, turning in his chair towards him.

Spock hesitated, watching his mother carefully, and slowly stood up to stoop over his instruments. "Spirat II is a Class M planet with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere similar to Earth. Breathable, but with 25% more oxygen. It is not necessary for life support. Records show that it has harnessed warp technology quite effectively despite it being in the midst of a civil war--"

"Thank you, Spock," Jim said with a touch of a grin, turning back to the screens. "I think we are all clear on our orders for this mission, there's no need for an added history lesson."

Spock stiffened. Their interactions were hit-or-miss at times still. This was, obviously, one of the later. "Indeed, Captain," he said mostly to the floor.

"You should look people in the eye when you're talking to them, Spock," Amanda said softly. Spock breathed deeply.

"Of course, Mother. I apologise, Jim," he said, making sure to lock eyes with blue orbs.

"There's no need--" Jim began, his eyebrows starting to furrow, and his words quick and sharp.

"Don't use such an informal tone with the Captain while you're on duty, either, Spock," she said a bit more harshly. Spock sighed out loud this time.

Jim coughed. "Anyway...Uhura, tell Scotty to prepare for a standard landing party to beam down. Sulu, you have the Conn this time." His cool facade broke for a second, seeing Sulu cheer in a broken-hearted-Chekov's face at the helm. It was some sort of amusing game the two now played, betting on which of them would receive the Conn. So far, even Spock could not discern the pattern for Jim's choice. "Spock, Bones, you're with me. Amanda, would you care to join us?"

"I would be honoured," she said simply.

"Captain," Spock began this time on their way to the turbo-lift. "I do not think it is wise to--"

"Spock, you shouldn't argue with your superior," she chided instantly. Jim narrowed his eyes and looked away as Spock glanced at the floor, unwilling to continue his comment.

"I think I'm going to like having you around. Besides Jim, you're the only one who can shut him up. And even Jim will let him go on for ages sometimes..." Bones said to Amanda. A sudden idea clearly came to him as he smirked. "Maybe _you_ should tell him to sit down for a physical. He's the only one on this entire ship I haven't seen for a full one, and that includes Jim too," he laughed to himself.

"Spock, you should listen to the good Doctor," she said, quite aware of the circumstances involving her son and the Doctor.

"Finally! That's what I like to hear." He grinned, aiming some sort of look that Spock was avoiding, as the doors swished open. Jim had a small smile on his face now, so perhaps it wasn't all in vain.

But he really only doubted his conclusion when she continued to fuss over him in front of the party they were supposed to be negotiating a treaty for.

"Come, let us eat before business," the Priest, Nonga of the Kutlus, invited. He gestured to the middle section of a long table that had seats emptied for them. On the right were the remaining Kutlus party. On the left was Ster of the Ninkas, and his party. Aside from the slight tension in the air, the two warring factors were very civilized with each other in close spaces.

"This is my kind of negotiating," Jim enthused, clapping his hands together. Somehow, his mother took the seat on his right when he and Jim sat on the side with only two chairs open. He was of the impression that something else unexpected and discomforting was going to happen.

And he was right. But it wasn't the piling his plate for him, cutting his food for him, an attempt at feeding him, wiping his face clear of non-existent messes for him, and all-around critique of his mannerisms. Luckily for Starfleet, both the Ninkas and Kutlus found it amusing if their laughter and lighter emotional atmosphere was anything to go by. Still, he helplessly caught eyes with Jim and tried to convey his sincerest apologies.

Jim frowned for whatever reason, however, apparently not understanding. And then, in a fluid move, he downed his goblet of wine, Spock's, and reached across to finish McCoy's--accompanied by the Doctor's indignant squawk. He sat very still for a moment and even the Spirat natives of both groups regarded him with wide eyes and shock. (They later discovered it to be because no one had ever been able to function on more than two servings in one sitting. Three was assumed as a suicide attempt or mark of insanity.)

Jim shivered and slowly gained a smirk. "'S a vera good drink ya'guyses have. Terriblee non-thirst-quenching, though?" He half-asked, half-said as if confused by what he meant to say. He frowned suddenly. "Bonesy, get the Doctor, tell him I not feeling so wellsy anymores." With that, he immediately slammed his face on the table. Bones and Spock stood up just as quickly while everyone else gasped in horror.

"Jim!" Bones scrabbled for his tricorder and Spock watched him and Jim closely for signs of...something. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for specifically. Perhaps something to indicate life. "Spock, he's had an allergic reaction to whatever's in the drink."

"Oh, Bonesy," Jim sighed, regaining consciousness. "'S okay, I feel great. In fact...I wanna dance!" He started to climb onto the table and began to dance to his own music. "Dah da, daa da! Uh, uh!" He took off his shirt with two dramatic hip thrusts to each side and threw it over to one of the females of the Kutlus party.

"Jim-Captain, please!" Spock pleaded, reaching for his sashaying superior. "You must get off the table."

"I don't think he's doing any harm, Spock," his mother said, smothering her laughter and hiding her smile behind her left hand.

Spock wasn't sure exactly what propelled him, but he looked at his mother shortly, almost defiantly, and then picked Jim off and stormed off to help McCoy in the interrogation of Nonga.

"I swear," Nonga looked from the Doctor to Spock and Jim, who was doing a questionable form of dancing up against Spock that diverted 57.89% of his brain functions to remain in control of his actions. "The only drug in the drink is a mild sedative. It relaxes the mind and lowers inhibitions. It is a custom to use for its truthful properties. That is all!"

"What plant does it derive from?" Spock asked, peeling Jim off his side for the moment. The Captain was remarkably insistent on making near full-contact with his body in that infuriating grinding way. "I could find a specimen for you to create an antidote for and take Jim away to clear his mind at the same time." He spared the man in question a severe glance but Jim just smiled innocently back doing that...that _thing_ he was doing.

"Good idea," Bones nodded.

" _Lutna_. It is a red flower, with yellow petals. But the roots are what you need," Nonga said, pointing down a path. "We find them in our garden there."

Spock inclined his head as he exited, gripping Jim by the elbow lightly to prevent as little emotional transfer as possible. Jim sighed, hugging Spock's side again as his First Officer walked them with some difficulty. "Captain," he said into blonde hair. "You must remove yourself from me."

"I like you, Spock," he said apropos of nothing. But he did remove himself and began to walk on his own.

"I am pleased to be held in your esteem." He replied, exhaling deeply once he could sort away all of the thoughts and imprints he pulled out of the human. He would meditate on them further at a later notice.

His Captain giggled--it was the only accurate way to describe it. "No, silly, you're supposed to say 'I like you, too, Jim'."

"I like you too, Jim," he repeated, only allowing a faint smile when he wasn't looking.

"Aha! I knew it! I knew you had a heart, Bones didn't believe me." Jim did another little dance. Less sensual and exotic in nature this time and more out of simple joy, which Spock was grateful for.

"May I remind you that I was merely repeating your words, Captain?" he said, raising an eyebrow and deciding not to comment on the 'heart' aspect.

"You can't fool me, you said it on your own volition. No trickery was involved, no-siree! You like me, you really like me," he said breathlessly, eyes gleaming. And then he laughed.

"Oh, look, _Lutna_!" He bounded away to take a long sniff out of the plant. "Smells like that drink they made," he said dreamily.

Spock peered at it over Jim's shoulder and pulled it up along with its roots. He ignored Jim's scandalous cry of "Spock! You're hurting the poor, pretty plant!" and separated the stem and its flowering bulb from the roots. "I do believe, Captain, that it smells so precisely because this plant is the drink's main ingredient," he said dryly.

Jim sniggered and linked his arm through the space between Spock's elbow. As the contact was spared by his uniform-shirt, Spock allowed it with a mild frown and proceeded back the way they came. "Bones also said he didn't believe you had a sense of humor inside any of your bones," Jim whispered softly after a moment.

"That could be because the so-called 'sense of humor' does not originate in any species' bones. But I am, after all, not a doctor, Jim. Simply your Science Officer." He lowered his voice to match Jim's as well and slowed their steps. It would take them 2.57 times longer at their current pace to return.

"See? I knew you had it in you. You must've in order to put up with me all these years..." Jim laid his head on Spock's shoulder and sighed. Spock tried not to stiffen. "And you are more than just the Science Officer--" His voice was dangerously quiet and obviously emotionally-driven, and Spock was almost certain he did not want to hear the rest of that sentence. His heart was beating too irregular to justify handling any sudden and unwarranted truths that might spill from Jim's soft pink lips.

"--Yes, you are right. I'm the First Officer, as well." He finished for him and began distancing himself in both closeness and increasing his stride once more. Jim resisted his attempt to speed up; a dead weight on his arm that he could easily plow through with. But Vulcan strength be damned, he did not. He stopped and swallowed as he studied his Captain's ruffled face--angry and frustrated at his lack of control over speech and thought, no doubt.

"No, dammit, Spock! That's not what I was going to say, and you know it." Jim's voice, too, was angry and frustrated. A hand reached out to cup his cheek, but this time, he did not shy away. He swallowed again.

"James, please, I cannot bear to hear it--" Spock disapproved of the low rumble in his voice that caved to the emotional aspect of this conversation.

"Cannot bear because you don't _want_ to hear it, or because you won't _let_ yourself feel it?" His voice returned to a softer mix, abrasive because of his exasperation and yet so beautiful for his depth of perception and overwhelming fondness. Spock had to look away from those earnest blue eyes.

"I don't wish to answer that." He settled on, the words as rough as the sound of his voice.

"Spock? Is that you?" Spock froze at the sound of his mother, pushing his Captain away from him and standing as straight as possible. He managed to catch Jim's furious scowl morph into a grin more commonplace on a drunk and grew suspicious.

"Mother?" He eventually called back because he was sure to receive another reprimand of "It's rude not to answer someone, Spock," if he didn't.

She appeared from around the bend that the thin, hollow trees covered towards the front of the garden. "I thought I heard you," she said, glancing at both of them. Spock stiffened as if she could somehow tell everything that happened by a single glance. But then she frowned. "Spock, you know it's rude of you to take off without a word like that. You're lucky you have me here to clean up after you. Once the Captain has regained his functions, they are all ready to sign the treaty and become a part of the Federation."

Jim stumbled in front of Spock, seemingly laying a hand on Spock's shoulder to regain his balance. "Oh, no, you misunderstand Missuses Graylady-"

"Grayson," Spock corrected without a blink.

"Yeah, her." He waved with his other hand. "You see, Spock, here, was just making sure I was okay. It is his solemn duty to take care of me so I can take care of him--and-and our crew," he added as an after-thought.

"He's quite good at it." Jim smiled sweetly up at the Vulcan and slid his hand down Spock's arm lightly enough to make him shiver if he was even a fraction less in control of himself. Spock closed his eyes and fought off these new sensations. "We should give you a raise. Doncha think you deserve a raise, eh Spocky?"

"Captain," He said in a very forced monotone, opening his eyes again. "Your point?"

"Oh, yeah, see--" He spoke to Amanda but his eyes were solely on Spock, burning with a bright intensity. And vice versa. "--I get into a lot of trouble, as I'm sure you'll believe, but I can always count on him to clean up after me. I see, now, where he gets that from. But that's why I love him so..." Spock couldn't help the quiet puff of gasping air that escaped through the minute space between his lips; it was a natural escape for a natural and vital process of life. He just wasn't sure if it was in response to Jim curling his fingers into his and locking them together as he spoke, or the deep, musical vibrato of his tone as he confessed.

"Spock!" His mother gasped more audibly in her human shock. "You never told me about...this."

"I didn't see how I could..." He whispered to Jim.

Jim broke their gaze to address her. "It's my fault, ma'am. I told Spock not to tell anyone." He looked back at Spock. "You two have a lot to talk about, I'll just get out of your way." He pressed a kiss to Spock's cheek, taking the roots out of Spock's other hand and walking away with a pleased hum.

There was silence following him for a long while. Spock looking at the ground, rapidly trying to process his thoughts and emotions and seal them behind doors of logic. Amanda spent the same time reviewing their scores of conversations about Captain Kirk, scrounging for details and clues.

"All this time," she began slowly. Spock picked his head up to look at her. "I thought you would never let anyone into your heart besides me. You could not have a Vulcan mate that way because they despise half of you and do not allow themselves to feel so freely. But you would never settle for a human either because you had not accepted that half of you for yourself." She shook her head and smiled. "I was wrong, it seems."

"I do not think 'let' is the most appropriate choice." Spock argued.

"The heart wants what the heart wants, Spock." She choked on a happy sob. "Oh, _sa-fu_ , you've grown so much and I'm so very proud. _So very_ proud of you." She enveloped her son in a hug that Spock allowed.

"...What would Father think?" He asked in a very raw, timid voice. He lowered his face into the dip of her neck and shoulder blades, applying pressure in squeezing her back gently.

"Sarek always loved you, in his way. He only wanted you to be happy, Spock." She paused and disengaged herself. " _Are_ you happy with him?"

"Jim is the most stimulating human I have ever been in the presence of. His mind is most dynamic--" He cut himself off at Amanda's sharp, knowing look. "Yes, Mother. Very happy indeed." He allowed himself a brief smile.

"In that case, I should go. I can see you're in good hands." She said softly. "May you both live long and prosper."

* * *

It took Spock two weeks and seven hours to gather his resolve to confront Jim. Two long weeks of meditation, awkward encounters on his behalf, and an intense struggle inside himself between the realms of his two halves. Granted, the words he shared with his mother provided great aid, but it, in itself, was not a panacea for the crux of his problem. No, it lay far beyond that.

All his life, he struggled to keep in check the emotions that ran deep inside him from both his sides. His Human nature fueled their drive, flushing them quicker to the surface. His Vulcan nature lent them an immense strength, a well of seemingly almost limitless proportions. Even at a young age, he knew this to be the source of much misery to come. And so, he threw himself into a dedication to knowledge in the hopes that something could enrich him, enlighten him to a path where it would not be a struggle to live every day.

He found only one such way: _kolinahr_.

But he was sentimental and the thought of feeling emptiness after having lived with such abundance was a horror beyond all horrors to him. He could not give up what made him unique. He would not allow himself to grant victory to those who pursued him with hatred in their hearts. He was Spock; half-human, half-Vulcan, and so he would remain.

He chose a hard path to live by. Honoring the Vulcan code forced him to work harder than his fellow cohort to learn control. He was tormented always, despite his clear intelligence and ethics. He grew to resent his emotions, hate them and fear them and deny them. He pushed them away, kept them hidden and, eventually, it worked. Logic was his only solitude, a haven for his mind to retreat to. He latched onto it more fiercely than any Vulcan ever would. He became the "perfect Vulcan" they wanted in the face of adversity and still they spat at him.

So he chose Earth. Here, they tolerated him at best and hated him for his cold indifference at worst. It was almost exactly the same. But there were differences. Those that hated him made it clear and did not hide behind used phrases from their parents, each "fuck you" was fresh and new from their own individual experiences and perspectives. And the few that tolerated him expressed their opinions just as efficiently, telling him exactly why the humans could not relate to him down to his choice in certain words and phrases. Even fewer were those that understood him in a friendly context. And yet, it was something he had never found on Vulcan. Earth had its redeeming qualities and Spock was nothing if adaptable.

As for Kirk, Jim made him feel like a child again. Lost and confused, bewildered in every sense and bombarded with feelings he had no idea how to deal with, or was capable of dealing with. When he felt the briefest stirrings of anger, Jim made him furious. Where he would be mildly satisfied, Jim made him feel warm and pleased. When he would have known a tingle of worry, Jim made him terrified. Where he would be at comfortable ease, Jim made him feel accepted and loved.

Deep, strong emotions warred inside him because of Jim's influence and he did not know how to conduct himself with their reappearance after all these years. It was as if Jim had dug up his buried secret and threw it in his face, demanding him to accept it. This was not easily done. It was a complete reversal of his entire life so far.

And it took him two weeks to come to a compromise. He would acknowledge the existence of his emotions with the decorum accepted for a Vulcan, but for Jim, he would allow them to _exist_ \--as had always been the case with him, with or without his approval.

The seven hours were thus spent wondering when Jim had these emotions and how--no, _why_ he had them. He simply couldn't fathom it. Jim was an excellent specimen of the human species, he could have anyone. Why him? Especially when they had such a rocky start; when did Jim's regard change?

And then he remembered the looks, sly with that curling smirk that reached deep into his shining blue eyes when he thought Spock wasn't looking. He remembered the challenging smile, daring him to speak his mind when he _was_ looking. He remembered the soft words, teasing him or goading him into a response. He remembered how relaxed he was in their quarters playing chess, all the secrets he spilled about the stress of their job. He remembered the accidental touches, feather-light for months before they solidified with courage. He remembered the same looks coming back this time without care to if Spock himself noticed so openly that Uhura would glance at Spock with her eyebrows raised pointedly. He remembered the way Spock slowly became the sole center of his universe that only the _Enterprise_ interrupted. He remembered the way Jim never noticed his mother. He remembered the eyes that always lit up with a secret flame when he saw his First Officer.

So he knew when. But _why_? That he still could not reason out as much as he tried.

Spock caught up to Jim in the Observatory Deck when the bright stars could be seen as streaks of light passed by at Warp speed. "I wondered when you would finally ask. Bones so owes me twenty credits for this; he thought it would take you at least another five days." He sighed, twisting his body so he could lean against the railing and still face Spock.

"It was funny, at first--" He continued to drawl, without any coaxing from his First Officer. Spock crossed his arms behind his back and listened. "--To see the great Vulcan--stiff and stoic you--get all flustered in horror and disbelief with your mother riding on your case. But she, unintentionally of course, undermined you, our chain of command, and our mission with it and that's when I had to do something. Plus, I couldn't stand to see you in any non-Bones-or-me-induced misery. And it was obvious that she just wanted to make sure that you had somebody to look after your health, to care for you and to love you...so I just played the part." He shrugged. "You're welcome, by the way."

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and it ventured out to lick his lips. "But the drink--?" He rasped.

Blue eyes sparkled at him as he told his well-rehearsed story. "So there was a little buzz that encouraged honesty, big deal. I just pretended my allergies got the best of me and played it up. You know, it was quite fun and our Spirat friends seemed to enjoy it. Big happy ending, yeah?" The eyes were taunting him, just as his lax body lying against the rails was betraying him. Jim was waiting for the killing blow to crush his hope.

"What about everything you said?" Spock asked, advancing a step forward. The distance between them was approximately fourteen and a half inches. Jim made an attempt to appear as if he was reclining more against the rails as evidence of his devil-may-care attitude instead of a manifestation the increasing feeling of vulnerability he was feeling.

"I don't have an eidetic memory. I don't remember everything I said." He said too quickly not to be defensive.

"Then, as _I_ do, let me paraphrase a few of your words--" Spock found it hard not to smirk at the flash of understanding pass in those blue eyes. "--'You are more than just the Science Officer, it is your solemn duty to take care of me so I can take care of you, and you're quite good at it. I get into a lot of trouble, but I can always count on you to clean up after me. That's why I love you so.'"

He paused and appeared to look thoughtful, while inching even closer to the on-edge Captain. "Excellent words for our vows. I suggest you try harder to remember them." Jim released a nervously-relieved laugh and then punched him in the shoulder.

"You big jerk!" He scolded at Spock's slight curling of the lips. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Consider it payback for all of the 'Bones-or-me-induced misery.'"

Jim collapsed into his chest. "My god," he said, muffled. "We've created a monster."

He looked up and grinned a classic Jim Kirk grin. "I love you," he said.

"I take it you will remember speaking it this time?"

"Spock--" Jim said huskily, drawing himself up. "Do shut up." Rendering his own demand null, he pressed his lips against Spock's and kissed him. Spock allowed the display for 2.7 minutes, shuddering at the pleasant feeling flowing through him.

"Jim." He pleaded, rough and gravely. "I must ask that you cease--for the time being."

" _Why_ , Spock?" He moaned deep in his throat, pressing kisses to his neck now.

"Indeed, that is the question I wish to be answered." He murmured, finding that the only safe volume for control. "James, _please_."

He sighed and pulled away a good two inches. "Okay." He adjusted his shirt and then looked deep into his molten eyes. "It's the fire in your eyes, the passion you can't hide. It's your hands, how delicate and sensitive and yet so strong and capable they are. Just like you..." He grabbed them and kissed his knuckles, shivering at the violent gasp Spock made.

"It's your ears, how exotic and hot and green they are--" He reached up to bite them gently, bringing a flush of green there and to his cheeks as well. "It's your eyebrows, how they say everything so effectively. It's your mind because you are just so damn amazing and unique and brilliant like a thousand stars. God, Spock, give me a reason _not_ to love you and maybe I can believe that this is all real!"

"I think that is...sufficient." He whispered, fingers trailing over the hands that still held him. "I do believe there is a more pressing matter: I need to assure you that this is _quite_ real."

"I might have a few ideas..." He whispered back, grinning mischievously.

* * *

The next morning, after a long night of assurances, Jim pretty much skipped down to the cafeteria grinning like a fool with an-almost smirking Spock a step behind him.

"Bones!" He chirped loudly, plopping into a seat next to the Doctor and pressing a great big kiss to the flustered man's cheek. "Am I so happy to see you!"

"Jim, I can almost _see_ the exclamation marks you're using. Do you mind if you tone it down just a little?" He asked completely irate this early, as was his normal.

"I apologize, Doctor," Spock said, taking the seat next to Jim and giving him a quick Vulcan kiss. Jim beamed even brighter. "I believe that is my doing."

" _Your_ doing?" He repeated, baffled.

Spock passed Jim his tray of replicated breakfast he selected and Jim extended two fingers in thanks. Spock's lips twitched long enough for Leonard's eyes to widen as he touched them briefly in response. "Good god, Jim! You--and the hobgoblin?"

"Yeah," Jim nodded dreamily, stirring his spoon around in his cereal. "Isn't it great? I sure did love our assurance last night..." His voice dropped huskily. McCoy rolled his eyes and moved to a seat across from the lovebirds and Spock blushed deeply.

"Captain, I do not think it is wise to proclaim such things so openly. We must maintain propriety in front of our crew." He said in response, picking up his tea.

Jim pouted and Bones swore the Vulcan melted a little. "But, Spock!" He whined outrageously. "There's hardly anyone around this early and I just got you after spending _years_ pining for you. Can't I show _a little_ affection?" He fingered the rim of Spock's ear and watched as his mate's grip on his cup tightened.

"No." He still said sternly.

Jim deflated and crossed his arms. "Who says? _I'm_ the Captain, it's _my_ ship!"

"Starfleet Regulations." Bones cut in wisely. "Now, I know it's hard for you, but at least _try_ to act grown up, Jim."

Jim almost gave his CMO a raspberry but thought better of it. And then he continued to think better of it. "Oh, no," Bones murmured to himself, seeing the cogs whirl in his brain as his smirk grew. He pretended to give in and sigh, biding his time for the right moment. Unfortunately for Spock, the right moment had more of an audience.

Jim glanced at his calm First Officer, checking him and then back to his food only for a second before looking back and donning a concerned look. "Why, Spock, you seem to have a--no, let me get it."

Spock immediately froze and mechanically turned his head to see Jim licking his thumb with quite the evil grin on his face. "Captain," he swallowed. " _Please_ desist in your attempt."

"What attempt, Spock?" He looked sufficiently confused and guileless--if he were anyone but James T. Kirk or if Spock was not Spock, that is. "I'm simply trying to get a little smudge of something off you."

"Jim, please," he whispered, shutting his eyes and gripping the edge of the table as he felt his Captain move closer ever so slowly. It was almost painful to experience. "Do not come any closer lest I be forced to harm you."

"You wouldn't harm me," whispered a breath into his ear. Spock would deny doing so, but he squeaked and ran behind Bones.

"I'm not going to do you any good against Jim, hobgoblin." The Doctor huffed, ignored once again.

"Captain," Spock warbled somewhere an octave higher. "If you do not stand down, I will be forced to withhold sexual favors from you for a month!"

Jim stopped in his predatory descent in shock. "You wouldn't!"

"Do not test me," he warned, sounding slightly more like his normal.

Jim sighed but nodded. "Fine. I'm sorry it led to this--I know better than to use your mother like that."

Spock gratefully walked towards him. "Indeed, I would hope so."

Jim smirked a little and blinked at the stationary crew members in the room. "I believe you can all resume now. There's no more fun to be seen here!" He said without looking at anyone other than his blushing again Vulcan, shaming them into muttered whispers and activity. "So, about our little incident...?"

"It does seem illogical to hide what is already known." He conceded.

"Sweet!" Jim collected a Vulcan kiss to celebrate his victory, and won a small smile too. "Oh, and you really did have something on your face this time." He stretched to lick a corner of his lips quickly and then sprinted for the door. "See you on Bridge, Mister Spock!"

Spock touched the freshly moistened area with his fingertips and felt a great desire to faint out of mortification.

* * *

"Please tell me you got all of that, Chekov." Sulu pleaded as he sat down with his tray.

"Do not worry, Meester Sulu, I have got ewerything on this dewice." He waved his recorder for proof and grinned. "It was made in Russia, so you know it's good."

"Fantastic," Sulu grinned back. "This is _so_ going to be sent to everyone on board the _Enterprise_."

"Affirmiteeve," Chekov agreed.


	2. He's Fine, You Can Be Assured of That (Kirk)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain some smut. If you want to avoid it skip from "God, I missed you..." to "Wanna go again?"

**When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.**  
**-Sophia Loren, from Women and Beauty**

**The greatest thing she'd learned over the years is that there's no way to be a perfect mother, but a million ways to be a good one.**  
**\- Unknown**

Somehow, from the time he left Spock in the mess hall to claim his very spinnable and all-around-awesome Captain's chair--(which was in the span of roughly five minutes or so), all of his 430-something Starfleet crew-members, 7 Admirals (including Pike, god, how embarrassing), 28 Academy Professors, 52 reporters (not all from Earth or of Vulcan), and soon-to-be the top story in breaking news to over a billion life forms was made aware, with complete assurance of course, to the very exact nature of his relationship with his First Officer. And it was only 0546 hours.

At least he knew exactly which two genius-idiots were able to hack and spam their way that quickly. And they were geniuses because they were able to do all of that so efficiently--as Spock might say--but they were very much idiots at the same time because, if there was anything that Spock loved--besides his drop-dead-sexy-gorgeous Captain of course--it was his privacy.

In fact, Jim was grinning rather maliciously at all the ways he dreamed up of his boyfriend exacting his revenge on Sulu and Chekov. Probably resembling some old-fashioned cartoon villain, plotting nefarious deeds with his hands tented and cackle in place, while doing so. Jim knew this because he saw people out of the corner of his eyes staring at him and slipping away in dread to their secret hiding spots--that he totally knew about because not only was he the Captain, but he was a _good_ Captain, so hah on them!

Jim spun himself three times in his chair, humming quietly to himself and trying not to snicker at the bewildered faces of the confused and rightfully-scared relief crew. He couldn't help it if he was in such a good mood that it was starting to make his cheeks hurt. And, really, they should have gotten used to his weirdness years ago. Or at the very latest, five months ago when he showed up on the Bridge looking like a swollen and sweaty orange because of an allergic reaction to yet another something. Bones had a field day with that.

Jim frowned. Actually, Bones had a field day whenever he got a chance to hypo him in the neck really painfully over and over again. He rubbed his neck subconsciously. Damn, and those things were supposed to be painless...

He sighed and tapped the side of the chair arm as he slouched with his hand holding up his face. It was ten minutes before his shift actually started and now his good feelings were gone, with no Spock yet in sight to brighten his day.

He almost pounced on the person entering the Bridge at that moment. Thankfully, he had more self-control than that because it would have been awkward enough to explain why he pounced on one Sulu, he didn't need the extra glomping of a Chekov to bullshit through as well.

Well, Chekov _was_ cute and all, but he was totally jail-bait--for one--and Sulu was a complete swashbuckling-badass with an even more kickass sense of humor--actually, Sulu had a little too much badassery going on, it would rub shoulders with his own epic-awesomeness just a bit more than he would prefer...and did he have a point here? Oh, yeah, Spock!

"Sulu! Chekov!" He grinned even wider when they froze in their path and shared an "uh-oh" look. Ah, the beauty of guilt. "I'm afraid I haven't seen the evidence personally myself, but I'm sure Mister Spock would love to see the results."

"Er, vhat evidence, Keptain?" The Ensign asked to clarify as Sulu swallowed.

He feigned a shocked look. "Why, only the plant-life and tricorder analysis evidence you two have compiled from Spirat II to add to the computer banks--should anyone else have an allergic reaction to _Lutna_."

"Oh, ov-of course, sir. That evidence." The young man stuttered before each taking their place at the helm.

"Lieutenant Sulu?" Jim drawled, hedging a dark tone. The poor helmsman stiffened before he turned.

"Ye-Yes, sir?"

He blinked and then grinned with a little wave. "Ah, never mind. I was just wondering if you lost your voice; Chekov seemed to be answering for you..." He peered intently for a second and dropped his voice even lower, delighting in the sheen of sweat that appeared on Sulu's forehead. "Are you well?"

"Ah, yes, Captain. Perfectly well here, sir, nothing wrong at all!" He attempted a grin to prove it. Jim enjoyed tormenting the two so very much. He couldn't wait to see what Spock would do.

The turbo-lift sounded again with another two familiar occupants entering, but Jim stopped himself from pouncing anyways. He also resisted the urge to turn around slowly with an amused twitch to his knowing smile. So, there, Bones! He could easily act mature--the devil only knows why he would want to in the first place.

"Doctor, I am quite capable of walking myself to my station and preforming my duties. Therefore, I do not need nor desire your assistance any further." Jim smiled at his boyfriend's snarky voice. It had been too long since he heard it. Too long indeed.

He managed to control himself a moment longer. Then, with an epic flourish on his part, he turned at the exact moment the Vulcan's Starfleet-issued boots clacked to his right in order to catch his eye just so. Spock stopped, moving his arms behind him and raising a single eyebrow as if unaffected by the look in Jim's eyes or the fact that everyone on Bridge was holding their breaths in wait. Jim smirked slowly, beaming once Spock curled his lips as well.

"Good morning, Captain." He rumbled pleasantly.

"It is now." He purred lightly in response so only those sensitive Vulcan ears would hear it.

They sparked a tinge of green as Spock murmured just as low back to him. "Indeed."

Jim chuckled to himself and broke their contact so the rest of his crew could breath again. He was well aware of their effect, thank you very much.

"Goddamn it, Jim!" Bones picked up as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened in those brief seconds of elapsed time. Sulu and Chekov faced their consoles but obviously were the only two that didn't take their cue from the good Doctor.

"What is it, Bones?" He asked happily, feeling much more Captainy now that Spock was here. Actually, to be more precise, he felt more whole with Spock around.

"Your Vulcan here almost had a nervous breakdown, is what!" Jim caught Sulu face-palming with a muttered "damn!" as Chekov groaned at missing their money-maker--no doubt to add to their apparent collection. That might become a problem. He better keep an eye out for their growing obsession--and make sure those bastards never got anywhere near to making soft-core porn videos of him and Spock without his explicit permission and control.

"Why don't you calm down, McCoy, I can almost _see_ the exclamation points you're using." He teased in a nonchalant drawl as he signed off on a PADD a random yeoman passed him. What was their job, specifically? To annoy him? Rand did that well enough--maybe a promotion is deserved. Scratch that, transfer. She kept eyeing Spock like she didn't realize it was Jim's business to do that and nobody screws with the Captain's business literally or figuratively--especially literally! Damn, and that Nurse Chapel did too. Make that two transfers--wait, Bones liked the pretty nurse. Double damn!

McCoy was not impressed, if the way he stepped down into Jim's sight of vision with his arms crossed was any clue. "Ha ha, very funny, Jim. But seriously, pretty much the same sort of public humiliation after extended public humiliation by his overbearing mother is too much. Even for him. He may be part Vulcan, but there's still some human in him somewhere. I want you to watch him carefully, he doesn't need any _more_ stress." He glanced pointedly in Spock's direction.

"I have a pretty good stress-reliever in mind, Bones," he said, glancing at his bent-over boyfriend reading the ship's scanners too. "Don't you worry."

"This is exactly why I worry, Jim." Bones huffed. Jim pat him on his arm consolingly.

"Seriously, Len, I'll watch him very carefully." His eyes slid down the slender frame he studied compulsively. Goddamn, his blue shirt was riding up so a clear view could be seen of his hot ass in tight pants! Who the hell designed these outfits and then what sadistic and/or masochistic bastard approved them for five-year long missions? But he couldn't complain too much, not with this view.

" _Very_ carefully," he murmured again, much slower and dimly aware that he was doing so as he continued to leer.

Spock must have caught on, the tease, since he stood up suddenly and straightened his uniform with that elegant eyebrow raise. Jim did not pout and cross his arms, not even a little. That would be so immature--which he, as an awesome Captain, was not. Obviously.

McCoy shook his head and grumbled something about 'one of these days, Jim, you'll be the very death of me' as he left. But one couldn't be so sure.

"Captain," Uhura said in her I-never-have-fun voice--it was the only one Jim ever heard her speak to him directly in; but then again, he still doesn't even know her first name through his own merit. Nevertheless, it meant it was time to be actually serious. Triple damn.

She touched one hand to her earpiece and frowned just a little. "I'm receiving a message from Starfleet. They say it's urgent, priority one."

Bad feelings made their presence known in his stomach. He frowned too, glancing at Spock this time to monitor his expression. "Do we have a name?" He asked lightly.

She shook her head. "None, sir. They're not telling us who it's from. Should I put it up on screen, sir?"

He immediately shook his head vigorously. "No! No, not at all." He covered his rather emphatic outburst. Jim felt the smallest bit vindicated for his reaction when he saw Spock pale slightly and stiffen in response to her question.

"No." He said once more, standing up. "I'll take it privately in my quarters-- _alone._ " He added when Spock started to follow as well.

"Captain, I believe it is prudent for me to be there to observe as it most likely concerns me as well," he insisted without missing a beat.

Jim turned on his heel and crossed his arms behind him. "Mister Spock--" He left his tone devoid of any personal attachment for a reason. "--It is for that very reason that I cannot allow you to. Doctor's orders are quite clear in removing any additional and excess stress from your day."

"Gentlemen," Uhura broke up almost smugly. Jim made a mental reminder to watch her too, lest she be some sort of co-conspirator in the Jim-Spock fan club. "I need an answer."

"Uhura, put the communications on screen." Spock said quickly. Her fingers were already on the console, giving the clear before Jim could get out more than a whining "Spock!" Damn that back-stabbing, stubborn bastard. They would be having some serious words later.

Hell, why not now?

He motioned for Uhura to delay their response. She nodded in acknowledgement and scrambled their frequency while walked up to his First Officer's side while the screen was still blank. "I believe this is mutiny." He muttered into the pointy-ear-of-betrayal.

Spock moved so his back was to the screen to answer him. Much like he did with their final conversation with Nero. Dark eyes landed on his face at first and then scurried to the floor. Green peppered his skin--which meant only one thing. Spock was thinking _dirty thoughts_. About his _favorite Captain_. "I believe you can punish me accordingly and very thoroughly in our quarters later, Jim," he muttered back.

A slow smile broke out on Jim's face until it morphed into a lecherous grin. "Innuendos on the Bridge, Mister Spock? Isn't that violating regulation?"

The slight curl was back and Jim's eyes danced with merry light at that. "Only one, Captain: regarding sexual harassment." He practically hissed out the words--in a very sexy way.

Jim shivered. "Well, Mister Spock..." He said low in his throat, watching the flush appear fully as a reaction to his voice. He closed his eyes half-way and grinned brightly. "Consider me _properly_ harassed."

And then he really did begin to feel harassed. "Spock!" scolded an all-too familiar voice. Jim had to cover his groan behind a coughing fit as they both turned around reluctantly.

"Yes, Mother?" Spock greeted in a mild tone. Only Jim noticed the way he stood even straighter. He almost growled at the reason, remembering all too well what happened _not_ that long ago.

Amanda, glaring from their main screens, frowned at the couple on the Bridge. "How could you humiliate me in such a way? You know I am on a very sensitive Ambassadorial mission for the Federation right now!"

If Spock were human, he would probably be squirming. So Jim did that for him while the Vulcan took on a scandalized tone. "Mother, it was not my intention-"

"At least you could have waited for a more decent time, sometime after my negotiations, when anything about Vulcans or the Federation wouldn't attract so much coverage. I'm sure the whole quadrant knows, and it's only been two weeks since I left you two!"

"Actually, it has been approximately two weeks, two days and--"

"--You know what I mean, Spock." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, interrupting him once more. If it were anyone else, Jim would have bet Spock would have looked somewhat affronted. Instead, he merely looked like a Vulcan being reprimanded by his mother. Which, to the untrained eye, was of minuscule difference from any other Vulcan outlook. And rather funny to Jim for it.

Or, it was until she trained her disappointed gaze on _him_. He froze and swallowed, fixing his slouching spine as he awaited her critique. Damn, she had him trained like a naughty school-boy already. It took his mom years to do that. Granted, she wasn't around that often but he was a rather naughty child in his later years and it took more effort to get him properly chided like this.

His point being: Spock's momma got mad skills.

"And you, _James_ , I thought I could count on you to keep him in good hands!"

"Don't look at me, it was them!" He immediately blabbed, jabbing an incriminating finger at his helm officers. They ducked under the table to avoid her evil eyes. Genius-idiots indeed.

Amanda snorted and looked back at her main targets once more. "Nevertheless, I'll be calling to check in on you _both,_ as it seems I can't leave you completely up to your own devices."

The screen clicked off, as she cut the transmission, and the random background pings of the _Enterprise_ running was exposed in the silence. Jim took a deep breath, scanning over his right shoulder and then the left, before taking a hold of Spock just above the elbow. "Come with me," he pleaded quietly into his ear and Spock nodded dumbly. He followed the Captain without any form of protest to the turbo-lift.

"Uhura, I'm counting on you to keep a tight leash on the boys!" He called out before the doors closed on them.

"Yes sir!" She chirped happily with a smirk. Sulu shared a look with Chekov and they both nodded. It was much more preferable to stay under their consoles, cowering like frightened children, than face the Communications Officer any day. Or Spock's mother, for that matter.

Jim stood in silence, worriedly shifting his blue eyes at the too-still figure before him. He closed his eyes briefly and exhaled out his nose. He pressed the stop button and the shaft shuddered to a close. Jim paused again, searching for the right words to say. But he easily gave up and shook his head, taking two steps to stand a few inches away from Spock's downcast face.

"Spock," he whispered. He put their foreheads together and felt his dark eyes rake over his close features even though he couldn't really tell if that was true or not. "I know I'm not the best person to do the emotional thing with. I mean, look how we started out." Jim laughed shortly, trailing his fingernails down Spock's cheek lightly. His boyfriend turned minutely to meet him in the eye.

"But you don't have to be afraid to show me anything, I promise. Don't hide from me, Spock." He kissed the corner of his eyes, moving naturally to the tips of his ears. "Let me help."

Spock moved away from Kirk, placing two fingers to his forehead. "I...am afraid, Jim." He said, measuring each word judiciously before he spoke. "But I do not know why, nor of what. It is...most illogical."

"No, it's not," Jim said, wrapping his arms around Spock's waist from behind. "You're afraid of losing control--I get it, I do. We kinda jumped right into this relationship right after everything happened at warp factor five. I never let you have time to cruise at quarter impulse."

"An intriguing choice of metaphor," Spock murmured.

Jim covered his little laugh by pressing a kiss to the back of Spock's neck and humming. "Thought you'd like it."

Spock waited a moment. "Thank you," he said very quietly, covering Jim's hands with his own.

"Mm..." He rubbed his face in the crook of his neck. "Don't thank me yet, I still gotta punish naughty Commander you."

"Indeed," he rumbled humourously, a light smile--for him, at least--on his face.

Unfortunately, they never did get around to that--much to Jim's displeasure. Amanda was true to her word; starting at 1900 hours that very night. And she called Spock every hour after which. On the hour. With only a four-hour grace period presumably to sleep.

It was the greatest buzz-kill ever invented. Or the worst, as it was in Jim's opinion. Because having no sexy-time with his amazing Spock could never, ever, _ever_ in any universe in existence ever be considered 'good'. Which is what happened, unfortunately.

Spock refused to do anything remotely more than platonic fifteen minutes before or after his mother called--once he found out the pattern in exactly 3.6 hours--and depending on what topics they broached, that left Jim with sometimes only ten minutes to get his jollies on. And, yes, he _was_ pretty damn great at sex, but even he couldn't keep himself ready forever listening to improvements on some vast desert colony at 0115 hours when his body was demanding sleep from him at the same time. Especially when he was forced to participate in these conversations as well.

Jim yawned. It had been a full two weeks of non-stop calling, even when Spock was on the Bridge--which was funny the first four times seeing Spock hurriedly answer his mother in hushed tones:

"Yes, Mother, I am fine. No, Mother, James is behaving quite befitting of his rank, currently. Actually...of course. Yes, Mother. May I please call you back, I am on duty right--...yes, Mother, I can see him right now. He is dozing in his chair...I will be sure to inform him of your opinion on his so-called laziness, Mother. Goodbye, Mother." And so on.

After those first four times though, it became pretty damn annoying for _everyone_. Even _Chekov_ got tired of not-so-secretly recording bits of his conversations and Chekov was, like, a nerd. Nerds never get tired of boring stuff.

Enough was enough. It was time for Starfleet to become involved and Jim was calling the scariest, toughest, no-nonsense Admiral he knew: Pike.

"Admiral." He greeted through another yawn in the privacy of his own quarters. So it kinda sounded like "Ad-merrial."

"Kirk." He said likewise as a bunch of pixels on his personal PADD with no difficulty translating apparently. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"No." Jim said flatly. Why bother denying it if it's true, was his motto.

Okay, no. Not really. But it sounded good--he might give it a try for real...Okay, no. That wasn't really true either.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about--and before you say it, no, this has nothing to do with my relationship with Spock--" He continued right on speaking, preventing even the chance for Pike to argue. "--Our fantastically epic expertise in bed is not keeping me up at all hours of the night and day. But thank you for asking. You know, it's really touching to know that Admirals like you care about us lowly space adventurers enough to inquire after our personal lives--"

"--Are you finished?" Pike scowled at his cheeky grin. "I was _not_ going to comment on that, James T. Kirk. What do you take me for, some kind of sick pervert?"

Jim shrugged easily. "With the way Sulu and Chekov turned out to be our rabid fangirls, you can't discount anything these days. Anyways, I have a favor to ask of you."

Christopher crossed his arms and half-smirked. "Anything for the 'Hero of Starfleet'." He said sarcastically.

"I swear, I did not start that. I bet it was Spock." Jim lied vehemently. "You know how much he adores me."

"Uh-huh," Pike nodded. "What is it that you wanted?"

"I need you to tell Ambassador Amanda Grayson to cool it with the calling all day long--especially during our shift. Say it's some kind of distraction to preforming our duties in the full capacity and cite some obscure regulation code or whatever." He waved his hand lazily.

"Why can't you?" He countered.

"Uh, one, have you even _seen_ her? And, two, she's practically my mother-in-law--I'm obligated to either hate her guts or be scared shitless by her; and since she's such a nice lady when she's not crazy with her Spock-watching thing--by the way, I make that list now, too--I just _can't_ \--"

"Alright, _alright_ , stop jabbering. I'll do my best. At least it'll keep me away from you..." He trailed off purposely, chuckling, but Jim couldn't help feeling anything but relief even as he was being mocked.

It lasted a good two minutes. Pike called back with a disturbed look in his eyes. "Damn. You were right about that woman, Kirk."

"Well, what did she say?" He asked, gripping the sides of his technological device tighter. He darted his tongue out to wet his lip.

Christopher looked away and sighed. "I did my best, but she is an Ambassador after all..."

"What. Did. She. Say?" He pressed.

"Well, I got the 'no calls during shift' in our negotiations at least."

Jim groaned into his pillow. "Oh, bittersweet victory, thou art a heartless bitch." He bemoaned.

As always, she was true to her word. Even so, the ongoing messaging at all times otherwise was starting to really mess with their social life. It had already laid waste to their private life. If he had been even the slightest bit more aware, he would have been fearing for the very _status_ of their relationship. As it was, Jim refused to take part in any calls later than 1900 hours--citing his need for sleep, which _was_ true--and took to sleeping in his quarters alone. And if Spock dared to step a toe into his room now, he threatened him with castration. He must have been pretty convincing because, after two attempts, neither Spock nor his insufferable pinging PADD dared anymore.

It didn't help any. He still jumped awake at the sound of the damn PADD going off through the walls. But if he didn't hear it, he would lie awake all night long desperately searching for the sound from hell so he could fall back asleep just to be startled awake by it again.

A few days into the fourth week of this slow torture, Jim realized something that made him even _more_ frustrated and disgruntled. Spock was lucky. The bastard could use his breaks to skip a meal and meditate if he got too terse and stiff and succinct with everyone. Yet, if he so much as closed his eyes for the briefest of moments while he was in his Captain's chair for a quick snooze on a standard, boring, milk-run, he came to with even more of a crabby disposition. No sunshine and rainbows for him. _Oh, no_ , not at _all_.

To make matters worse, Starfleet began calling him about the increasing number of filed complaints from crew on board the Enterprise. Everything from his decreasing efficiency in Command, to the feeling of persecution or fear for their life just by meeting his gaze for a second. There was a bunch on the way he _walked_ for Christ's sake! And no, _Anonymous_ , he did not slouch on purpose--he was naturally gifted that way.

Unfortunately, he couldn't weasel an easy way out of this one. No amount of his charming smile or mysteriously bright and shiny blue eyes helped. Which was weird because it _always_ helped before. He had it in the strictest confidence that his epic eyes were what landed him Spock--for the most part. His tongue was pretty persuasive too, apparently.

Although, he definitely wasn't on his top game at the moment, either, so he couldn't discredit the usual effectiveness just yet. He promptly scheduled a mandatory meeting for his entire crew and, being a good sport, sent himself into Sick Bay for some much-needed, hypo-induced rest so he could properly do _something_ for once this month.

Actually, the entire situation was distressing him. And he really wanted to address their concerns and apologize. The _Enterprise_ and her crew didn't deserve this kind of treatment. No one did, for that matter.

But, of course, nothing went completely to plan. He ended up having nightmares about a grey woman nagging at him until he forced himself awake, feeling even _less_ rested than before for all the twelve hours he wasted. Which led him to this point: bitching tiredly and incoherently to the twenty-or-so loyal crew members whom stayed through the entire thing listening to him vent. To put the cherry on things, he couldn't even tell how he felt about Spock _not_ being one of them. Not anymore, that is.

"--And, oh, _god_! I'm so tired! I can't fucking sleep because I'm so paranoid and I'm cranky and mad and upset _all_ the time. It's like I'm fucking PMS-ing and going insane." He sighed, leaning against the podium almost drunkenly.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair shakily. "But it's not like I can say anything either," Jim whispered to himself. He forgot about the small assembly still there with him. "He'd be torn between his mother and me and I can't do that. I just _can't_ do that. But I can't stay silent--I'm dying. I'm _dying_ without him. _Fuck._ "

He slid with his back down the podium, his shaking becoming into full-blown tremors and quakes. Slowly, he felt his eyes watering up on him and hid his face in his hands. Then the stress-induced tears started to flow quickly, as quickly as the rest of the group began to file out. Thankfully, no one was around to hear him start to sob brokenly or see how his shoulders shook violently and passionately with the effort.

"Goddamn it, Jim..." He heard Bones mutter as he left, although he did not register the fact until much later. Sulu and Chekov, the last ones out, shared an uneasy look before they stepped through the open doors. Chekov mutely reached for the 'delete' button on his recording device, confident in their silent unanimous vote that it was the right thing to do.

A whole awkward day later, Jim was about ready to walk into Sick Bay and ask Bones for a cure for his problems. Half-way through the swish of opening doors and opening his mouth to call out for him, he stopped himself. There were voices in here yelling--or at least _one_ was.

He immediately flattened himself against the wall and tuned in. "Alright, you half-breed hobgoblin! Now, you _have_ to listen to me. I still haven't seen you for your physical evaluation."

"McCoy." Jim frowned. Spock never used his last name that bitingly in such a dead tone. "I do not see the relevance. And if you are going to proceed in this illogical manner, wasting my time, I-"

"Now see here, _Mister Spock_ ," Leonard bit back as well--but that was expected of him. "I'm not finished. But if it's a point you want, a point is what you're gonna get! I have yet to preform your physical and I would like to when you are in your _peak_ physical condition--preferably someday soon. I'm sure _Jim_ would appreciate it as well."

"...I don't follow, Doctor." Jim clamped a hand over his mouth in shock. Contractions _and_ a properly mollified tone following an elongated pause? Spock was either _really_ tired and hiding it well, or he was just as affected by his mom as he was. Which, now that he thought more about it, was essentially the same thing. Damn, he needed sleep.

Thankfully, Bones was able to clear it up for the both of them. "Call your god-forsaken mother and tell her to stop calling so damn often!" He yelled and then added in a much more pleasant way, less abrasive and in-your-face-like. Rather soothing, actually. "Try to get her to call once or twice a month when you both have the day off or something."

"I do not see the logic in using profanity against my mother when she only means well--" Spock proceeded as if he hadn't listened at all to his last sentence. Seriously, even the zombie version of him understood. Mostly.

"Goddamn it, Spock!" Jim imagined him throwing his arms up in the air as he yelled once more. If it wasn't already cured, he would be certain that Bones would need to watch his blood pressure levels. Or maybe take a vacation from him and Spock. Same difference again, really. "Will you just _listen_ to my advice for _once_?"

Jim smiled a little at poor, under-appreciated Bonesy, and then he went blank. Just like that, he got an idea. And then he began to smirk. And smirk some more. And possibly laugh a bit evilly as he plotted his next course of action. But he absolutely did not run into a table, stub his toe, curse as loud as he could under his breath, knock over a tray, trip and almost fall flat on his face before rushing off to begin his plans. Because he was awesome. And awesome people did not do that.

He waited until Spock spent exactly 26.4 minutes in his room after returning from his one-sided shouting fest in McCoy's office. Predictably, Amanda wouldn't call for another 33.56 minutes. Which meant plenty of time for Jim.

He rang at the doors to his quarters--something that he had _never_ done--and waited patiently for Spock's quiet and raspy "Enter." Jim was surprised that he could even speak at an audible level with all the work his vocal chords had been up to. And not in the good way. The kind that did not involve him and his equally-spent vocal chords.

Spock called out a quiet and raspy "Enter," just as he predicted and Jim stepped in as soon as the doors opened.

"Hey, Spock." He greeted weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. He only half-saw Spock rise and blow out his meditation candles because he couldn't meet his gaze just yet. He only half-saw the way his traditional Vulcan robes clung to him seductively because he closed his eyes to it. He refused to allow his body or that voice to overwhelm him before the time had come when it could without repercussions.

"Captain." His First Officer spoke with a dip of the head. Jim almost sobbed at his formality. He wanted to, but he wouldn't let himself. He was tired of crying--actually, make that just plain tired of it all. "I had not expected your company. Is there something in which I can be of service?"

"Yes!" His stupid voice squeaked and he coughed, trying to will his libido to calm down. Damn Spock and his unfortunate word choices. "I mean, yes. Just--not yet. I have something to say to you first..."

Spock visibly sighed and his right hand twitched as if he had to hold himself back. "I see..." He said in a very clipped tone. "You too. Very well, I am available for the next 29.4 minutes. Speak."

The greatest test of his courage was to bridge the physical gap between them--because once he took that step, his plan was in motion. And a nicely sized part of him almost couldn't unfreeze enough to do that. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he was scared for more than one reason.

It was wrong of him. He knew that. It was wrong and deplorable and stupid of him to leave Spock like that. Amanda Grayson really was a nice lady that was simply looking out for her son in a rather overbearing-sort-of-way. But he was still afraid. And so he ran.

It was easy to run, natural even. His mother taught him everything he knew, after all, which could be broken down to: when the going gets tough, the tough get going the hell out of there. Every time his mom wasn't running from the past and/or his face, they were planet-side in some exotic part of the galaxy. She simply couldn't stay in one place and whenever he stayed in one place for longer than a few months, he got restless and fucked everything up. Especially if it was something good for him.

Everything good for him went sour until he said "what the hell?", and became _really good_ at making _everything_ \--good or bad--go sour. Perfect at it, pretty much. Because what did it matter when, regardless of the effort he put in, he messed everything all up in the end? Better to just accept it and enjoy the moments he can as they come.

But then Pike came along and challenged him exactly the way he liked to be challenged. He took a chance and didn't screw it up as majorly as he thought he would. Jim did become a Captain, after all, somehow.

Then Spock took Pike's place. And he majorly screwed things up before he even really got to know the guy. Especially by Old Spock's Alternate-Universe standards. Which depressed him for a little bit, before he re-accepted the challenge Spock offered unconsciously.

So, he got to know Spock a little bit better, becoming a thorn in his side just to see what made him tick. He tried to bond with the guy and open him up a little with chess--which did work. A little _too_ well, actually. Because the more he peeled the layers off of Spock, the more he started to like the guy. And then _really_ like the guy, and then almost-maybe-sorta love the guy. And finally, he fell head-over-heels, never-leave-your-side in love with him in little over a year. Which totally sucked, because Spock was Spock and didn't do feelings in general--at all--and here he was sporting the biggest unrequited-love-fest in the history of all things remotely historical.

God, his life sucked back then. He was afraid to admit anything or take a chance because he didn't want to scare the universe's greatest friend ever--sorry, Bones--away. But he was afraid of not saying anything and slowly dying until he imploded from keeping everything in for so long.

Even now, when he actually _has_ Spock, he was afraid of losing him. He was afraid of messing up and ruining everything again. He was afraid that Amanda would find something inherently wrong about him--which wasn't that hard to find, just a matter of picking _one_ \--and force Spock to break up with him--which he would on principle because of how much he treasured his mother. Hell, he was in fear _everyday_ that Spock himself would find something inherently wrong with him that would make him unsuitable. That, for some reason, he was unacceptable as a friend, companion, _mate_.

But, most of all, right now, he was afraid that he _already_ soured things. That it was too little, too late. Which would be the _absolute worst_ thing _ever_. Because he meant it; that thing about dying without Spock. And the sad part of it all is that, despite knowing all of that, he was _still_ ready to slip out the door in a moment's notice. Fucking old habits die hard, they say.

Jim had to breath deeply five times before he could, very shakily, cross the two feet of distance between them. Dark, glittering eyes warned him not to and he flinched under their severity. In that moment, he froze and had to browbeat himself with the reminder of why he came here.

He licked his lips and worried the bottom one too in distress. The situation may not have been entirely his fault, but _he_ was the stupid idiot that pushed Spock away. _He_ was the one that ran and gave up. _He_ hurt Spock and ruined their relationship. He took those steps and now he had to do the same all on his own if he wanted to mend things.

The sudden feeling of shame--shame for his instinct to run, shame that he _did_ run, and shame that he wanted to run once again away from the hard stuff like responsibilities, being better than the person he was, facing Spock and owning up to his mistakes--overwhelmed and propelled his mouth into hysteric ramblings. He was afraid that if he didn't say it all now, he never would.

"I'm so sorry, Spock," he gasped, whole body trembling uncontrollably. "I'm _so fucking_ sorry. I should've been with you, I-I should've stuck through. But I was a coward and I ran, I left you when you needed me, when I promised I never would abandon anybody like my mother left me. I thought--fuck--I don't know what I thought, but it was stupid. _I_ was stupid. I can totally understand if you hate me now, because I kinda do a little bit--hate me, that is--and it's logical to dump me or whatever because I proved that I'm not a worthy mate and it's okay because I understand--I would dump me too, but I can't--and I'm pathetic and a loser and oh, god, Spock, I'm so sorry for--"

"Jim!" Two hands reached out to pull him into a warm, firm chest. He couldn't remember the last time he breathed. "Breath deeply." The deep voice commanded him. Ah, there was it. Must have been a whole minute ago. He didn't realize how much he was missing the cool oxygen his body needed until he drank some in. It tasted refreshingly like forgiveness and life.

He took a few more breaths, calming himself down and getting rid of his embarrassing hiccups that he hyped himself into. He squeezed the fabric at Spock's back tightly in his fists and cocooned himself in Spock's hold for another moment longer. He felt the heaviness of Spock's head resting on top of his in response.

"Jim..." He began again, murmuring almost directly into his right ear. "I do not think any less of you for removing yourself from a situation that was both highly stressful and distasteful. It was a logical move. After all, your efficiency as an Officer dropped 17.239% when you were merely suffering as an indirect party. Being a direct party could have compromised you further in ways I do not care to discover." Jim snorted and half-smiled. There was at least one eyebrow-raise in there, somewhere.

He pulled away so he could better see his expression. A lonely eyebrow was waiting for him like he expected. "Does this mean you'll think about getting back together?" He asked meekly, putting on his most apologetic and sheepish smile.

Dark eyes widened and both eyebrows disappeared for a second in concern. " _Jim_ , if I had known how deeply--" He cut himself off and his expression darkened. Spock turned towards his PADD lying in wait on his desk near his bed. "Perhaps I should have listened earlier-- _much_ earlier."

"I should have said something, Spock." Jim spoke before he could act on his anger. "I had a responsibility to because I love you."

"Repeat those last three words." Spock growled suddenly. He almost jumped at the sudden turn-around.

He swallowed. "I love y--mmph!" He was cut off quite happily by another pair of lips. He gasped, trying to remember how to breath. Again. This might become a problem. But if it meant more Spock-mouth-action, he would prefer not to find a solution.

"God, I missed you..." he whispered, already hard and seeing the outline of stars.

Spock's lips curled knowingly and he pressed their bodies closer, pulling out an overdue moan from his captain. "Unfortunately, I am only available for the next 18.5 minutes. Not nearly enough time to fully sate your urges, I'm afraid."

"Fuck, _Spock_." Jim groaned, fumbling with the dark fabric in the way as he rubbed against his side. "I'm so sexually-repressed that I could cum any minute and goddamn, who the fuck made this outfit?"

"I believe the original design comes from--" He said in his professorial lecture voice. And, dammit, that bastard was smirking at him!

"--Shut up, shutupshutup!" He whined, feeling his precum dripping like his cock was sobbing for attention. "Get fucking naked now!"

"As you wish, Captain." Spock rumbled and Jim may or may not have melted.

"Gah," was all he was capable of at the moment, tripping as he tried to shimmy out of his boots and pants at the same time. It was more complicated than one would think.

"Shall I assist you in undressing, Captain? You've had a long day and it is the First Officer's duty to make sure you are well-taken care of, _Captain_." His voice was as steady and smooth as if they were on the Bridge. Speaking of, they were _so_ going to do this on the Bridge someday. In the near future. Maybe in two hours if he was lucky.

" _Please,_ " he begged. And, _fuck_ , if it wasn't the sexiest thing to see Spock get on his knees in front of him and peel off his clothes with those dark eyes watching him.

His erection was only uncovered for a second. Once the boxers revealed its throbbing existence, Spock's mouth gave it a second skin. A hot, moist, awesome second skin.

"Ohh, god!" He moaned, swooning. Thankfully, that weird half-wall that separated his bed area from his study area was behind him so he didn't fall completely to the ground. But then he felt that slow tongue swirl and his knees buckled. "Ohhmyfuckingod-duh, _yess_!" Jim threw his head back, lazily glancing at the bed and the PADD not too far away.

Fuck. The plan.

"Wa-ah, Jesus!" His balls were tingling from the sensation of touch. How the hell was he still standing? Actually, no, he wanted to know how he was able to not cum all over Spock's face this entire time. "Wait," he whispered and groaned and pleaded at the same time. "Waitwaitwait _way-eet_!"

"Yes, Jim?" Spock asked around a mouthful of penis. God, that half-slurred voice sounded as hot as it felt vibrating up his cock. Not helping, thought-process.

"Um." He almost forgot as he stood there panting, trying to put two brain cells together for more than one second. "Uhmm, shit...Yeah, oh! Fuck me. Fuck _-ing_ fuck me right now."

Spock slowly stood up. "It would be my pleasure, Captain." He purred. Jim's heart may have stopped as his spine shook from that tone. God, his hair was _literally_ standing on its end.

"I don't think I can walk..." He mumbled. It didn't matter. A second later and he was being thrown on the bed, shirt ripped to shreds in the process somehow.

"It would be easier for you to be positioned on your stomach due to the length in which we abstained from coitus." Spock said right into his ear as he chewed on it. The sudden heat made him shiver again.

"Mm, it's been a month." He agreed, rolling over blindly. He opened his eyes to see his fingers only inches away from his PADD.

"Four weeks, five days and six hours. I can not calculate the minutes in my current frame of mind." Spock corrected, layering kisses to the back of Jim's neck and biting hard on his shoulder.

"Fuck, shit! How can you do that? I can barely say words." He muttered, eyeing the PADD and doing some quick calculations.

"Something that never fails to amuse me." He said succinctly; smiling as Jim scoffed, scandalized. "Do you wish to be prepped?" Spock then asked, pressing his naked flesh against Jim's back.

"Damn! I didn't even know you undressed." He pressed half his face into the pillows with a sigh, waiting for the thing to actually ring so he could implement his plan and get on with just enjoying the getting on. "No, just go. Now. _Please_."

There was pain that lasted five seconds longer than he expected, ripping him apart and burning his insides. He gasped and choked on the pillow-fabric he punched into his mouth so he wouldn't groan in pain. Knowing Spock, he'd pull right out and spend their entire time apologizing if he knew exactly how much pain he was in right now. Then he would lecture him about following precautions during sexual congress that would ease pain and heighten pleasure. And get him hard from hearing him lecture.

But he was onto something. Jim grunted around the cotton in his mouth as the movement progressed at such a slow pace. Maybe he really should have agreed to getting fingered because the friction wasn't helping at all. Yeah. Like a Bones-style hypo to his neck full of lemon juice bad. And he was so goddamn _slow_.

"Goddamn it, just move already!" He hissed angrily, closing his eyes as the pain spasms moved to climb up his spine.

"Faster, Spock, fast-- _ohshit_!" His cock jumped back up to pressing desperately against his stomach and he whimpered. Spock had rammed into him, hard, for punishment. "Damn, damn, damn, damn..." He moaned appreciatively, feeling his body move in response to Spock with a more acceptable pace now. Fuck, things were getting good. How did he live without this for a whole _month_?

Now Amanda called.

"No." He growled much in the same way he previously threatened castration with. "Don't you fucking dare stop! Fucking ignore her and fucking _nail me_ right to this fucking headboard _right the fuck now!_ "

"Is that an order?" Spock teased. Jim knew it because the bastard slowed down so he could slide in deep while he spoke. _Slow-the-fuck-ly._

"Oh, fuck yes!" Jim wanted to scream, but he didn't. One, that was for later. Two, Spock was dancing around his prostate and _godthatfeelsofuckinggood!_ Three, he had to begin his mission that he, without a doubt, knew Spock fully deserved now for all of his teasing.

He threw his right arm out like he was reaching to grab a hold of something. Which he meant to do anyways, because now they were at bed-shaking speed. He had already memorized the PADD outline and could easily turn the thing on mute without looking. Then, with a smirk that melted off immediately into a genuine moan at a well-placed thrust, he pressed redial on the PADD's screen and let the plan unfold.

Spock hadn't noticed. He was too busy slamming into Jim's body and making him deliriously happy. Fuck, the bed was groaning and squelching with them, whacking against the wall with solid thump-thump-thump-thump-thumps. His prostate was getting a _very_ thorough examination. He had already soiled their sheets and was on his way to bursting once more just as Spock was reaching his first climax. It was almost _too easy_ making Amanda blush from head to toe on the receiving end of such a call.

"Fuh _-uck, yess_. Spock. God, SpockSpockSpock!" He moaned.

" _Jim_." Spock panted over the ringing in Jim's ears. If he wasn't working so hard on timing his next release, he could have came from the way Spock said his name. Fuck, he probably shouldn't dwell on it then.

"Please, Spock, pleasepleaseplease." He had no idea what he was begging for, but whatever it was, he wanted it badly. Now.

He could feel Spock tense and uncoil in every fiber of his being. And that was almost as good--and by good, he meant _fucking amazing_ \--as feeling his semen rush through his body followed by his own. _Goddamn_ , he missed this!

He rolled over onto his side next to the freshly collapsed Vulcan, gasping for air as sweat poured off him. He turned and found Spock in pretty much the same situation. He smirked and licked away his perspiration. Spock's lips curled delicately in response. "Fucking awesome, yeah?"

"I do so concur." He responded a little breathless. It made Jim's cock twitch.

"Wanna go again?" He asked with a little eyebrow-wiggle-of-seduction. Spock gave an amused eyebrow-wiggle of his own.

Three wondrously-epic hours later--complete with a _full_ twelve hours of sleep as well--Jim woke to the thrilling sensation of Spock layering kisses to the top of his fingertips. He smiled sleepily as his Vulcan kissed his cheek next, aware to waking. "Good morning, _ashalik_." (1)

"Yes, very much so." He agreed curling into Spock's side. He closed his eyes contentedly under his petting.

"If we do not move in the next four minutes, we will not be up in time for the Alpha shift, Jim."

"Fuck work." The Captain groaned. "Bones'll cover for us. I told him to order us to have emotional-recovery vacation time for our emotionally-compromised state. Bet Starfleet will even thank us. Just you wait." He felt the rumble in Spock's chest of laughter and grinned.

"Most efficient work, Captain." Spock praised. Jim rested his chin on Spock's shoulder and extended his fingers out for a Vulcan kiss.

"I do so love it when you call me that."

"Perhaps we should make use of it properly while we have the time, Captain." But his PADD went off before either could advance their plan.

Jim sighed outwardly; inwardly, he bounced with glee. Time to reap the fruits of his labor. He untwined their fingers to answer their call. "Hi, Misses Grayson!" He chirped cheerfully. He snickered to himself when she blanched just a little bit at seeing his face.

"Uh, good morning, dear. Is Spock around?" She asked.

"Oh, _sure_. He's right next to me." He said, grinning at her still. She waited.

"May I speak to him please, James?" She huffed a little and fidgeted uncomfortably. Jim just hummed and passed the PADD to Spock.

"Greetings, Mother." He said pleasantly enough.

"Spock! Oh, Spock, there you are." She smiled at him with a suspicious blush appearing on her cheeks, and then continued quite hurriedly. "I have some news for you. It has come to my attention that it is far better for you to call me at _your_ discretion. There are some things a mother is never meant to see or _hear._ "

"I am pleased to hear the change in your opinion. It is most logical. However, I would like to pose a query into why the sudden change, if I may?" He asked normally, as if Jim wasn't in bed with him, waving and making faces in the corner of the screen at his mother.

She flushed darkly now, also ignoring Jim. Which only encouraged him--didn't people know that? "Ah," Amanda began, looking away. "You...accidentally called me last night."

"I see. A most disturbing experience for you, no doubt." Spock muttered flatly. He shifted his glance to Jim briefly before returning to his mother with a renewed sense of purpose. "I'm afraid I'll have to call you back, Mother." He hung up on her without waiting to hear her reply.

"Aww," Jim pouted lightly as his First Officer turned towards him. "And it was just beginning to be fun!"

Spock raised one eyebrow. "It would be illogical for you to insist upon your innocence, Jim. This is clearly your doing."

"What?" He gasped, clutching his chest. "I can't believe that you would think that I--yes. I did it." He amended with a sigh, seeing the stern gaze leveled upon him.

"Therefore," Spock continued. "It would be illogical of me to deny you a showing of my gratitude in return for your gift. Also, I believe the good Doctor is in need of an apology."

"And a thank you," Jim supplied helpfully. Spock's other eyebrow went up to his hairline. "A-a _different_ thank you! You know, because he's the reason I got this idea in the first place." He corrected hastily.

"Perhaps more... _assurance_ is in need, Captain." Spock rumbled and Jim melted all over again.

* * *

Sulu knocked twice before entering Chekov's quarters as soon as the swish let him in. The young Ensign was uncharacteristically late for duty.

"Dude," He called out, concerned, his brows furrowed slightly. "Are you even awake?"

" _Da_ ," Came a sleepy voice to his left and he walked into the hidden small alcove to see his Russian friend blinking tiredly at him in front of a computer screen.

"I was beginning to worry that something or someone beamed on the ship and stole you away." Sulu joked.

Chekov waved away his worry. "No one vould be doing such thing to me. Vould you like to see what I have been doing?"

Hikaru leaned over his shoulder to look closer at the screen. It was full of secret images that they both had collected-- _not_ stolen, as some like to say--and developed into a rather nice collage of Jim/Spock moments.

"It is not being finished yet," Pavel narrated for him. "But it is very nice, no?"

Sulu grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, man, we might be taking this a little too far." Chekov's wide eyes made for an excellent aghast expression. "I mean, staying up all night to compile our evidence for some sort of wallpaper collage is a _little_ on the weird side. We might be better off just leaving them alone."

"It is not veird, it is honorable!" He claimed, puffing out his small chest in pride. "Someday, they vill be wanting these moments and pay big credits to bring them their happiness. We vill be rich!"

Sulu looked thoughtful rubbing his chin. "That is true...I want half."

"Nyet! I vas the vone up all night and I vas making the recordings. Thirty."

"Forty-five percent."

"Thirty."

"Forty?"

"Thirty."

Sulu sighed. "Thirty?"

"Fine. Thirty-five for, as we say in Russia, _Вы были хорошим другом меня._ " (2)

"Deal." He shook hands with Chekov, smiling. "Pleasure doing business with you, as always."

"A Russian talent." He agreed and then shrugged. "Besides, this is not meant for them. This vone is for her. As an apology." They both shuddered in memory.

"Good idea," Sulu said, cringing a little still.

"Also Russian talent." He nodded seriously.

Sulu laughed. "Was everything 'inwented' in Russia?"

"Only the good vones." He said, blinking innocently. "Ewerything else was inwented in China."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original AN):  
> (1) Vulcan: beloved, for the most part. I was gonna go with _ashayam_ , but if Spock hasn't even thought _t'hy'la_ yet, why jump to more personal?
> 
> (2) Chekov has been saying da, 'yes' and nyet, 'no' for those who didn't figure it out or already know. But the Russian: 'you have been a good friend to me', not an official phrase in Russia--to my knowledge, that is.
> 
> As you can see, we are only left with Amanda's recollections to wind everything down (don't go looking for it soon, but, then again, all bets are off with me). Hope you enjoyed Sulu and Chekov's bickering and Jim's utter childishness as much as I did!


End file.
